


Hopeless Case

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Knightfall (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Love, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Worship, adoration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8121187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Tim might always be a hopeless case, but now he had someone to share it with. Besides, who could ever truly be hopeless at Bruce's side?





	

**Author's Note:**

> In the KnightFall storyline. Tim was so distraught and Bruce so broken...  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "End of All Time" by Stars of Track and Field
> 
> Oddly this is my 667th story. One would not have thought the Superhero Sewing Network would be #666. Complete anarchy! Chaos! Holy rebellion, Batman!

Nothing, _nothing_ could have prepared Tim for seeing Bruce this broken. It wasn't even the physicality of it. It wasn't seeing him bound to the bed or the brace around his neck. It wasn't even the images of his damaged spinal cord hanging on the wall. _That_ he could reconcile with the man Tim had grown not only to look up to, but to care so deeply about. No, it was hearing his fragile voice, the haunting waver to it that spoke of being close to _giving up_ that had nothing to do with Tim's partner. It was the hopeless look on his face and the fear in his eyes. It was how Bruce Wayne was mentally falling apart right in front of them all. In front of _him_.

Alfred had gone hours before, departed to the city in search of a very specific item Bruce's doctor had requested. Tim imagined he'd either returned and taken note that Tim still wasn't in his room, _assumed_ where he was, or he was still out and about. It wasn't a far leap and he wasn't worried about him, knew that once in a grand while, Alfred did have a life beyond the walls of this manor. If there'd ever been a time for him to have it, it was now.

Swallowing thickly, Tim reached for Bruce's hand, curling his fingers around Bruce's own, somehow expecting them to be cold to the touch, to lay limp in his hand, but they didn't. Rather, Bruce's fingers laced with Tim's, engulfing his smaller hand, cradled it so tenderly Tim could feel the way his heart rate picked up, the steady staccato in his chest. There was something so _particular_ in Bruce's touch; a reverence that Tim hadn't expected to be there. 

It took him what felt like an eternity, but he finally scooted his chair closer, rested his arms on Bruce's bed, and tucked Bruce's arm against his chest, cheek resting against their combined hands, his eyelids falling most of the way closed, only watching Bruce's face from under his lashes.

There had always been days where he'd thought of things like this – imagining moments where he'd be _worthy_ of holding Bruce so tenderly, being allowed in Bruce's bedroom without question. But those days had never included the near-death of his mentor, his _partner_. They had never included how heartbroken he felt each time he looked at him or how saddened he'd become in the past few weeks.

Bruce's hand slipped from his own, came to rest on Tim's cheek, the warmth of it stealing Tim's breath away. He shuddered faintly, doing his best to kill the rest of his plethora of emotions; to fight the welling of heat low in his belly or the way his pulse skittered at the slightest sign of affection. 

"You're hurting."

Bruce's voice hit Tim like a bucket of ice water and he ducked his head, shaking it just the slightest. "It's nothing, just got banged up tonight." He let out a huff of breath. "The usual buffet of _scum_ , that's all."

"That's not what I mean."

Tim almost expected Bruce to elaborate, to draw out a confession or at least hint that he knew exactly how Tim felt, knew all of his most precious secrets. When the words didn't come, Tim let himself relax, let his shoulders release their tension and his heart stop aching. But in the same breath, he understood something else. Bruce _already knew_. He had a knack for knowing almost everything and this was no exception. To expect him not to have noticed how his partner felt, how he lay in bed at night and _ached_ for him, or how he watched him when his back was turned was ridiculous. 

Turning his head, Tim pressed his lips to Bruce's palm, let himself inhale his decidedly intoxicating scent. Even now, bound in bed, Bruce was nothing if not perfectly, gorgeously delicious. A little smile lifted Tim's lips as he parted them, allowed his tongue to slip between his lips and _taste_. A shiver rushed through him at the warmth of Bruce's skin against his tongue, the flavor that burst across his taste buds. The slight prickle of salt, the essence that just _was_ someone - unique to every person - and the barest hint of what Tim imagined to be Bruce's cologne, just barely clinging to his skin.

Tim's tongue darted out again, stealing another taste - and another - until he was working his way down to Bruce's wrist, until his lips were pressed against flesh he'd only dreamed of, lips sliding over the tender skin there as if it were somewhere else entirely. To taste Bruce, it was like Heaven itself had opened its gates to him, as if every god and goddess of the world had proffered up the secrets of the universe for him to unravel.

His mind worked overtime, calculating how long it would be until Bruce would protest, until this would all end. In all probability... it shouldn't have ever _begun_ , and that gave Tim pause. Pressing Bruce's hand to his cheek again, he squeezed his eyes shut and _breathed_. Three little hitches of breath and finally a steady one before he whispered out, "Do... do I have _permission for this_?" because that was all that would ever make the world go round again if _this_ was how he'd see the only man he'd ever really looked up to from this point forward.

"How long?"

Tim's breath left him in a rush, a quiet hitch at the end and he shook his head, half hiding himself against Bruce's hand. Maybe it shouldn't have been shameful to admit this, to tell him he'd been like this longer than he'd been _here_ ; that it had only grown worse being around him every single day. Perhaps the words shouldn't have burned on his tongue, both itching to be let loose and begging to stay, but they did. 

Sliding Bruce's hand down his cheek, over his neck, Tim finally looked up, meeting Bruce's gaze, losing himself for a moment in the most gorgeous blue. 

"Almost as long as I've known you."

"Me or _him_?"

There was no stopping the quirk of Tim's lips, the amusement that danced in his eyes. "You think I only want you for _Batman_ , is that it?"

"The thought has crossed my mind."

Tim pushed himself up from his chair, moved to press his free hand against the bed, leaning over Bruce, looking down into his eyes, letting everything in him shine through. "Even the big bad Bruce Wayne has his insecurities, it would seem." He reached to push a stray strand of hair back from Bruce's forehead, slid his thumb down to ghost over his lips in a play of what he _wanted_ to do. "Both of you. Every single part you have to you. Even," his voice broke just the slightest, "even the secret part that you think no one knows you have. Even the broken little boy who's hiding behind these masks... and even the devil that lurks in the back of your mind." He watched him, saw the way a shadow passed over his gaze and the way he began to build the wall up around himself only to let it crumble. 

Nothing but the sound of their breath came in the room, stretching out to eternity and then finding the finite the instant Bruce put voice to his thoughts. "What single thing would make you the happiest? What is it that would convince you I'm still _here_?"

"Anything?" Tim could hear the hope in his own voice, the fragile little _plea_ just beneath the surface, no matter how dangerous the question was.

"Yes."

He knew then, he could have asked for any of the things he lay in bed at night dreaming of, could have found himself with thighs trembling and head tipped back in ecstasy. But he also knew it _wasn't_ that that would reassure him. Settling his hip on the edge of the bed, he ran his fingertips over Bruce's arm, a ghost a smile on his lips. "Let me stay here tonight. Nothing more, just... let me exist in your space. Let me see you at your weakest and when... when you're at your strongest, when the time is right, let me show you everything I've ever needed to."

Bruce's fingers pushed into his hair, tugged him down until he was _achingly_ close. His gaze burned a hole right into Tim's soul. "I will give you what I can."

Even as heat spiraled through him, Bruce let go, patted the bed at his side, and Tim didn't hesitate. Turning out the lamps, he pulled himself up onto the bed, slid down beside Bruce and gingerly eased his arms around one of Bruce's own, clung to him in a way he hadn't done with anyone in his entire life. When he closed his eyes, it was _peace_ that he found behind his eyelids and it was _love_ that he found in his heart. 

He might always be a hopeless case, but now he had someone to share it with. Besides, who could ever _truly_ be hopeless at Bruce's side?


End file.
